Spread out on the table were the bits of paper she had brought from her room, and, pointing to them, she again called him by name.

That she was laboring under a new and unusual emotion impressed him immediately.

He could see that she was fighting to restrain an impulse to pour out in words what would have been meaningless to him, and that she was telling him the bits of paper were to take the place of voice.

For one swift moment as he advanced to the table the papers meant less to him than the fact that she had twice spoken his name.

Her soft lips seemed to whisper it again as she pointed, and the look in her eyes and the poise of her body recalled to him vividly the picture of her as he had first seen her in the cabin.